Queer Happenings at PS 118
by Polka-Dotted-Pony
Summary: When an anonymous informant reveals Mr. Simmons' secret to the principal and it costs him his job, the students of P.S. 118 ban together to fight the injustice and bring their beloved teacher back.
1. Chapter 1

It started out like any other school day at P.S. 118. Students arrived on campus in a timely fashion, retrieved their books and other supplies from their lockers, and reported to class to begin their day. The very same was true for Mr. Simmons' fourth grade class. It felt just like any other thursday morning, meaning the students that day would be focusing on...

"Geography!" Mr. Simmons exclaimed with his usual signature enthusiasm. Even the groan that resounded throughout his classroom wasn't enough to shake the smile from his face. Despite the light protest, he ordered his students to take out their geography books, and he turned to the board to begin the lesson. In the middle of a lecture about the many fascinating and beautiful rock formations of the Grand Canyon, there was a knock at the classroom door.

"Come in," he called out, and the door creaked open. The presence of the person standing in the doorway only broadened the smile on Mr. Simmons' face.

"Devyn!"

"Hi Mr. Simmons." She greeted him with her usual flushed face and crooked grin. Mr. Simmons swept her up in a hug and her cheeks only grew redder as she squeezed him in return.

"What a nice surprise! We haven't seen much of you around since you moved on to Mr. Packenham's class. What brings you by today?"

"Well I was walking by Principal Wartz' office on my way back from picking up something for Mr. Packenham and he asked me if I could stop in to watch your class for a few minutes. He needs to see you in his office right away."

"Oh...oh dear..." Mr. Simmons brought a worried hand up to his cheek. He thought for a few seconds before turning to his students. "Class, I'll be right back. Please behave and listen to Devyn. I should return shortly."

All the way to the office, his stomach was doing nervous backflips. He'd never been in Principal Wartz' office for any disciplinary reasons before, and it just wasn't in his ever-the-optimist nature to assume the worst about anything, so why was he feeling so particularly nervous?

Once inside the office, Mr. Simmons found himself sitting on a creaky old chair in a dark corner of the room, with Principal Wartz pacing back and forth in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. There was a very serious look on his face and his gaze was fixated on the floor.

Mr. Simmons finally found his nerve, and after a loud swallow, managed to speak up.

"Principal Wartz, is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid something IS wrong Mr. Simmons, something is very, very wrong. There are some very serious accusations piled up against you right now and I'm afraid I can't ignore them."

Mr. Simmons swallowed again. Just the mere thought of what he possibly could have done, whether knowingly or unknowingly, made him feel queasy. His stomach rumbled in angry protest.

Principal Wartz stopped pacing and stepped behind his desk. He sat down and removed his half moon glasses, folding them gently and setting them on the tabletop.

"An informant, who wishes to remain anonymous at this time, has come to me this very morning to reveal to me that you are, in fact, an openly homosexual man."

Mr. Simmons looked as if someone had just punched him in the stomach.

"Surely you can understand why this presents itself as a problem."

He was determined to keep his wits about him, even though his heart was pounding at the speed of light and he was suddenly fighting to keep his breakfast down.

"N-no sir, I'm not sure that I understand." he answered with a slow shake of his head. "I...I am gay, yes, but why is it any of your business?"

"Because, Mr. Simmons, having someone like you at my school, teaching my students, simply isn't right. As an educator, you understand how impressionable a young mind can be."

"...A-are you ACTUALLY suggesting that I will somehow teach my students to be gay?"

"I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm suggesting."

For the first time in what was quite literally years, he was angry. Normally, it took a LOT to rile up Robert Simmons. And right now, he was RILED. His heart still thundered in his chest like a hundred race horses, but no longer from anxiety.

"Sexuality is not something you can condition," he hissed, narrowing his eyes at his employer. "It's something you're born with."

"That very well may be. But why would we want to take any chances?"

The emotional roller coaster that Mr. Simmons had been riding suddenly hit it's peak and plunged down as fast as it could go. His angry facade melted and he folded in on himself, silently sobbing into his hands.

"I'm as upset as you are, Mr. Simmons. You're a wonderful teacher. I hate to let you go under these circumstances, but I'm only doing what I believe is best for the students. You have fifteen minutes to pack up your desk and be off school grounds. You can expect your severence pay in the mail next week."

Lifting his hot, wet, sticky face from his hands, he stood up, and headed for the door. Everything felt heavy and numb.

"We're going to miss you, Mr. Simmons."

He didn't say anything in return as he shut the door and left to go back to his classroom, full of waiting students.

Every step he took felt like it was going to be the one to land him on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

The entire class stayed perfectly behaved for Devyn per Mr. Simmons' instruction. She had decided to let them take a little break from their work while he was gone and now Gerald was at the front of the room, regaling his classmates with another one of his famous urban legends when the door slowly creaked open and a dark shadow crept across the tile floor.

Whatever Gerald had been going on about was dropped and immediately forgotten when he-and everyone else-saw the look on Mr. Simmons' flushed, tear stained face. He was cradling an empty cardboard box under his right arm. The room suddenly felt darker, the air more sinister, as if the Grim Reaper himself had stepped inside.

He silently slipped behind his desk, set the box down, opened a few drawers and began emptying their contents into the box. The silence carried out for a few minutes until one student was brave enough to speak up.

It always had to be Arnold.

"Mr. Simmons? Are you alright?"

His professionalism was for the moment, forgotten, and he shot Arnold a look that said "Do I look alright to you?". Every person in the room was taken aback by that response, including Mr. Simmons. Trying to somewhat regain his composure, he took in a deep breath. His whole body shuddered. When he managed to find the strength to speak again, his voice was hoarse and nasally.

"I've been called away for a family emergency," he lied. He couldn't tell his students the truth. It would crush their little hearts and he couldn't bare to do that. How do you explain to a room full of 9 year olds that you've just been fired because the principal didn't appreciate your sexual orientation?

"I don't know when I'll be back. So whoever takes my place, please behave for them."

That was the last thing he said before he threw his designer tote bag and his jacket in the box along with everything else, grabbed it, and walked out.

"Oh dear..." Devyn muttered to herself. The thought of going after Mr. Simmons for some sort of explanation was tempting, but she couldn't leave the students by themselves. She had just walked over to the intercom to buzz Principal Wartz for back up when he came walking into the room. He stepped behind Mr. Simmons now empty desk and called for everyone's attention.

"Good morning students."

"I was just about to call for you, Principal Wartz," Devyn interjected, stepping away from the intercom. "What's happened to Mr. Simmons?" She clasped her nervous hands together in front of her chest.

"That's not important right now, I assure you. What is important is restoring order to this class and going about the rest of the day as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I sent for a replacement teacher and she should be here in-"

"Gooood morning class!"

"OLGA!" The entire class cheered in unison, which seemed to do an effective job at covering up the terrified shriek that tore from Helga's throat.

"-a few moments. Nevermind then." He walked over to Olga and gave her hand a firm shake. "Thank you so much for filling in for Mr. Simmons on such short notice Ms. Pataki. If you hadn't happened to be in town today I would have found myself in some very hot water."

"No, thank YOU, Principal Wartz." She practically gushed, setting her tote bag and planner down on the desk. "Thank you for giving me another opportunity to come back to P.S. 118." She began wandering up and down the aisles, taking in the familiar faces and brushing each student's shoulder with her hand to say hello. "Don't get me wrong, I loved being in Alaska and working with the underpriviledged Inuit students. But my heart belongs to P.S. 118 and I'm so happy to be back."

Another cheer erupted from the students, seemingly not even caring that Mr. Simmons was now gone and nobody knew when he would be coming back. Helga slid down deep into her seat, burying her face in her arms and praying to any deity that might be listening to strike her dead right then and there. This was the LAST thing she needed right now. Oh well. At least Mr. Simmons wouldn't be gone forever or anything. She could deal with this. ...For now.

"I leave the students in your capable hands, Ms. Pataki."

"Principal Wartz?" Sid asked, raising his hand. "How long is Mr. Simmons going to be gone?"

"For quite some time I'm afraid, son. But you're going to have plenty of fun with Ms. Pataki. Now I expect all of you to behave for her, is that understood?"

Everyone nodded.

"Alright, carry on students. Ms. Bauer, your help has been very much appreciated. You may return to Mr. Packenham's class."

"Yes sir."

He swiftly exited the room, whistling a happy tune all the way down the hall with Devyn trailing behind him.

Mr. Simmons had left the school grounds as quickly as he could, and walked the three or four city blocks it would take to get him to the place that he knew could offer him any sort of solace right now. The person inside was jarred awake by the sudden relentless pounding on his front door. He laid there for a good thirty seconds or so, staring at the ceiling and blinking every so often to try and clear the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at his clock. 9:17. He really didn't want to get up, but he might as well.

The pounding started up again.

"I'm coming, hold your horses!" he growled. He heaved a sigh, rolled out of bed and stumbled into the living room, barely having any time to properly adjust his robe before he answered the door. He opened it, and his hazy half asleep mind couldn't even register who was standing there before the person dropped the box at his feet and flew into his boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, Peter!" he sobbed.


End file.
